Blindsided
by Prospero Hibiki
Summary: The hands of chance rip from a man the chance for vengeance while giving him the chance for something else he did't know was possible. An Argento Soma Divergence FanFiction
1. Beginnings & Accidents

Blindsided An Argento Soma Fanfiction  
  
By Prospero Hibiki The Grandmaster Mongoose God of Misdirection, Caffeine, and Those Socks You Lost Last Tuesday hell_frost@hotmail.com  
  
Brought to you by Frozen Hell Productions  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the sole property of their creators and owners whoever they may be. The characters of the series Argento Soma are being used without permission. No profit is sought nor will any be received for the production or publication of this work.  
  
  
  
Beginnings & Accidents  
  
Journal of Ryu Soma: Entry 52  
  
My life has often been a matter of accident after accident as well as mistake after mistake. I don't know what the cause of this one would be classified as, but I'm currently leaning towards a combination of the two. Two near misses from an alien's beams, and a moment of misguided attention was all it took to remove any chance I had at destroying Frank for what he had done to Maki and Professor Naguchi. The first had passed by so close to the cockpit of my Sarg that I could feel the heat even though the tempered material that comprised my canopy. But a quick turn in my seat to see what had been hit was what truly doomed me. Staring at the devastated building, my eyes widened in surprise as a second followed almost immediately hitting one of the remaining skyscrapers, bouncing off I the glass and heading for my craft. There wasn't anything I could do for it was immediately upon me. It enveloped me and soon I passed out from the pain exploding though half of my skull.  
  
Waking up in the infirmary was interesting to say the least. Unable to see I had immediately screamed, and only the firm calming hands of Lt. Green against my chest had prevented me from ripping what I soon realized were bandages from my face. To this moment I still don't know just what she'd said that calmed me down enough to keep them from sedating me. The doctors told me then that the bandages are a necessity until they can discover just how badly my eyes were injured. From the minor radiation burns I received from the beam they think that I'll be anywhere from fine to permanently blind. Despite their encouraging words the tone of their voices tends to lean towards the latter and it scared me.  
  
People were always with me while I waited from day to day. I doubt that any of them have ever been in the position that I was in, and yet they all felt compelled to sit with me doing nothing once they'd exhausted the inane topics of the day. It's almost worse when they gave up on sitting quietly and turned on the blasted television that's in the room. I suppose there is some regulation on what shows can be aired on a hospital's television set, and the only things not excluded seem to be horrible soap operas.  
  
I've been unfair though. Not everyone was horrible company. Lt. Green was surprisingly good company during this time. She's also the only one who seemed to understand just how bored I was. I've always been a somewhat cerebral personality, and nothing to just think about was driving me insane, until Lt. Green introduced me to one of her hobbies. She seems to like word games and puzzles and such, for she always had questions for me. Not easy ones either. I must have gone through them by the score, but she always had another to follow with.  
  
After a week of sitting though examination after examination, the doctors were still clueless as to the condition of my eyes. By then I'd started to pick out more and more sounds, distinguishing more detail from my surroundings. I felt it was only natural considering I'd lacked the use of my vision for the past week. I was starting to pick out the sounds of objects being moved around from the soap operas that Lt. Simmons watched to both my utter surprise and horror. Then again I had always thought there was something off about that man. Sue either watched the same shows or read the same book. Or at least I thought it was the same book as it sounded the same each time she gave up in disgust and threw it across the room before turning on the TV. Both of them tended to be inconsiderate enough to forget to turn the damned thing off when they left, as well as leaving the remote where I couldn't find it. Guinevere seemed to bring armloads of books with her because there was always a grouping of thuds on the table in the corner. It's the sort of sounds that big paperback books made when falling to the floor from an overloaded dorm desk as opposed to hardcover books. And why did she just sit there and quiz me for the entire length of her stay. It couldn't have been very exciting for her even if it was the high point of my day.  
  
I think my devil even visited me once even though if he did I was asleep at the time. I know he's not the Devil, but that's how I've always thought of him. I woke up one morning only to find my hand wrapped around a smooth rounded object. I didn't need to do anything else to understand that it was an apple like the kind he'd offered me so many times before. It would be green and perfectly ripened without a single blemish. Either my devil is the Devil or he is a really discriminating produce shopper. I'm actually leaning towards the former because I've yet to see any apples that perfect in the base commissary. But then that's probably an indicator of how highly Funeral is thought of by the brass.  
  
The day finally came when the doctors were ready to take the bandages off. I was scared. Terrified really. I don't remember the suspense getting to me as much the first time as it did then. But then I had only had one eye bandaged then. All the pilots seemed to be there as well as some of the support personnel that I'd met during my time with Funeral. Hattie wasn't, but then I didn't blame her for I knew about all the time she'd spent in hospitals. If I'd had the choice I wouldn't have been there either. Either way when Guinevere came in later that morning I asked her to throw it out.  
  
The pain was unbearable. They'd taken the bandage off and suddenly the pain was stabbing into areas of the brain that I had very little real knowledge of. Shutting my eyes did nothing as I could still feel the pain piercing my brain. Pain and only pain was the totality of my universe for the brief moments it too me to slip gratefully into unconsciousness.  
  
They called in some specialists to look at me, though I didn't understand at the time why they hadn't done so in the first place. Of course they were incompetent. Poking at me, prodding at me, adjusting the replaced bandages. They thought only one of my eyes was affected, the right one of course, though how exactly they came to that conclusion without removing the bandages was beyond me. Maybe the measured brain waves or did something while I slept. They said that the scarring in my other eye protected me somewhat. Lucky me.  
  
The second attempt at removing the bandages went only slightly better. This time they tried it in total darkness so I could slowly become used to the light. It didn't work. There was a nightlight in the corner giving off the barest of glows. It jabbed me in the eye, and I screamed. It occurred to me then that I'd never get my revenge. I couldn't even see.  
  
My left eye was fine like the specialists had asserted, surprising me. I could see out of it, which I suppose was some blessing but not much of one. Depth perception was gone. Coordination was gone. This one injury made me useless as a pilot. The doctors thought I'd become hypersensitive to light in my right eye. It's rare, but it has been known to happen if the eye is hit with enough radiation. They thought it might correct itself. Might. What was their elegant solution to the problem of the other eye? An eye patch held in place with a gummy substance. I wept that science had come so far in so little time. I don't think anyone but Guinevere got the sarcasm because I remember her trying to cover up laughter with a sudden coughing fit.  
  
I wasn't feeling very sociable. I think everyone realized that rather quickly. Everyone that is, except Lt. Green. She seemed rather oblivious to my curt replies and short temper. Each day, after she'd been there a while, I would forget to be rude and start to enjoy myself. She confused me. Why did she keep coming? She clearly had better things to do because instead of word games she brought work. I didn't mind much for I'd been using the time myself. Things came to me. I'd filled several legal pads within the first two days of having the bandages removed. It'd been so ling since the ideas had come to me. In fact I doubt they ever had. Chemical bonds, micro-circuitry, gravity forces. So many ideas. I completely used up pens and almost screamed while groping for a new one because other ideas were sliding through my mind before I could find another. During this time I found myself babbling, running off at the mouth about whatever I'd been working on. Guinevere didn't always seem to listen, but I think that was more because she realized that I just needed to think out loud at times. There were times though that she responded with questions so pointed and astute, that I'd be sent off onto tangents solving other problems I'd come up with earlier. That was strange. Her comments showed that she has a much deeper understanding of the hard sciences that I would have expected in an ordinary pilot.  
  
They released me from the hospital two weeks after the accident. I'd missed several alien attacks during my convalescence but no truly dangerous ones. No one mentioned that I wasn't going to be a pilot with only one good eye. Lt. Green picked me up to take me back to my apartment in the housing area of Funeral. It was good to get home. It was funny, but until I lay there upon my bed I hadn't understood that I'd come to recognize Funeral as my home.  
  
I have a few ideas as to what I can do for Funeral now, and they rely pretty heavily on the twenty odd legal pads I took with me when I left the hospital. I suspect that once I get them transferred into my computer and sorted I'll be able to apply for some laboratory space in the complex. 


	2. Accidents & Fate

Blindsided An Argento Soma Fanfiction  
  
By Prospero Hibiki The Grandmaster Mongoose God of Misdirection, Caffeine, and Those Socks You Lost Last Tuesday hell_frost@hotmail.com  
  
Brought to you by Frozen Hell Productions  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the sole property of their creators and owners whoever they may be. The characters of the series Argento Soma are being used without permission. No profit is sought nor will any be received for the production or publication of this work.  
  
  
  
Accidents & Fate  
  
Here is where I belong. It's where I should have been all along really. I loved being a pilot, but somehow a part of me was always most at home in a research laboratory. Looking around I can see that this room certainly qualifies as one. It was an unused room before they started moving in the things I had asked for. Funny that they had so much unused space available here, only three levels down from the command center. I think Commander Inez knows, or at least suspects, who I really am. There was almost no resistance to my suggestion of working like this until I get better. If I get better. No, I need to keep a positive outlook on things. I will get the vision back in my right eye. Nothing else is acceptable.  
  
For the first time ever I'm the only person in a particular lab and so it's setup completely to my specifications. I'm not required to keep it artificially neat to accommodate other researchers unable to remember where everything is. My own miniature network sits strewn across the room on various tables, with the main server standing tall in the corner. Each node has it's own processor and can function on its own and can grab time from the server's as needed to work on the various projects I have running at all times. Cables are everywhere underfoot since I'm constantly moving terminals around to clear space for other things. Things like an inch/foot scale model of Frank, which can be disassembled into his original parts. The same with the Sarg, or at least the parts that I've been able to find complete schematics for. Yet another mystery I need to solve. Schematics of just about everything I could think of line the walls. The Sarg, Frank, the Ulysses, the GTO fighter (Ground To Orbit for those who don't know), and gun systems from hundreds of weapons all find their way onto any free space of wall and many must fight to prevent being covered.  
  
Constantly hundreds of ideas are bouncing though my head. I've found that the impulse to speak out loud hasn't diminished and I've taken advantage of that by positioning recorders at each terminal as well as hanging overhead microphones throughout the room. One computer is devoted solely to not only tracking my movements to ensure that the nearest recorder to me is on, but using a voice recognition system developed by Maki it also sorts the contents of each file by various reference points before sending links to the computer containing research on that topic. At any moment any ideas on, say, gravity projects get shuffled off to the computer where I do gravity research. I'm running out of chairs with all the moving around I do from one station to another. I'll have to see about getting some more.  
  
People always stare at me whenever they stop by for whatever reason, but I push them out of my mind as unimportant. I think I've managed to piss off most of the staff in the complex with this attitude really. Commander Inez and Captain Heartland are among those that are just amused. In fact, they keep commenting on how I need an assistant in here. I really don't want someone else in the lab more often than I can help it. There are ideas that I've had that I don't want anyone finding out about, and some nights I wake up in a cold sweat having dreamt of what could happen if the military got a hold of my ideas on sympathetic vibration. I think some people are already too curious about Excalibur as it is. But at times I silently agree with them. I'm getting way too many ideas to concentrate on any of them properly. I really need someone to force me in one specific direction at a time the way Guinevere did while I was in the hospital.  
  
Hattie spends a little bit of time each day in here. At first it was something of a bother because she reminds me so much of Maki, but over the past week that I've been here I've gotten used to her being here. Often she reacts to my verbal thoughts as if they were requests, directing me to the very station that containing the files I was talking about. I'm slightly wary of her though for I think she's discovered one of the biggest secrets in my lab. Angel was Maki's last project before taking off to work for Professor Naguchi. An adaptive AI, Angel is the secret behind my research project system. Ever so slowly, as I add additional processors to the network, she's getting smarter and faster. With her main terminal hidden inside the floor no one will ever know about her. Hattie thinks of Angel as a nickname of the network, and I've tried to encourage that attitude. More than anything else the thoughts of Angel in the hands of anyone else is too horrible to even consider. Soon she'll be able to communicate with me verbally as well as the reverse.  
  
My musings are cut short by a slender hand being waved in front of the monitor that I am currently looking at. Following the hand around to my blinded, right side I can see that it belongs to Lt. Green. "Yes?"  
  
"You need to go home now Lt. Soma. It's already 2100 hours. Even mad scientists need to sleep occasionally." She sniffs lightly. "And might I add showering to the list?"  
  
Staring at her I can't help but wonder about her once more. She's almost as mysterious as I am, and knowing my own past what does that say about hers? "I'll probably be here for a few more hours. Have a nice night." Turning back to my monitor I continue to type in my notes on possible armament upgrades for the Sarg's main gun. It's always seemed to be incredibly unstable as evidenced by...my thoughts are cut off as Guinevere reaches across my line of vision once more and this time she turns my head to face hers.  
  
"You don't seem to understand my dear Lt. Soma. You are being kicked out of your office until 1000 hours tomorrow morning." My expression must have displayed my confusion because she continues. "These orders are directly from Cmdr. Inez so there's no use arguing with them. She also told me to make sure that you eat something, and since the cafeteria closed several hours ago that means that something else has to be done."  
  
Exasperated by being interrupted once more I wave my hand a few times. "Sure, sure. In a few minutes." When she releases my head I turn back to finish off my thought until the monitor turns off. "Or I can save and come with you now if you'd prefer." Seeing her nod I sigh. Turning the monitor back on I do a quick save and head over to the record computer. There I'd installed a special button under a protective, plastic flip cover that will execute the sort and link program for the day's data as well as turning off the recorders.  
  
Guinevere rolls her eyes at me as I walk to the door. "If you're finally ready?"  
  
"So what exactly does this something else entail?" I'm really hoping it doesn't mean much because I really just want to go back to my apartment and work from my computer there. I don't think I'll mention this to Guinevere though. The thought of getting her any more upset with me is rather disturbing. Instead it might be good to use her tactics against her. "After all I am rather in need of a shower and a change of clothes."  
  
"Well that's true." She looks over at me as we get into the elevator. "Well for that I'm just going to have to take you to your place so you can get washed up and changed before we head out." She continues ignoring the look of horror I must have on my face. "From there we have reservations for dinner at a rather nice place that's slightly off the beaten path." I have no response for that and so the rest of the trip to my apartment passes by in silence as I wonder just why she's doing this.  
  
True to her word Lt. Green lets me out of her site only long enough to take a shower and when I'm finished she's already set out a nice button- down, dress shirt and some slacks, neither of which I can remember buying. But some how their style seems familiar. It occurs to me once I've put them on and look in the mirror that they are something that my devil might wear. Guinevere pushes me back into my bathroom telling me to shave and once I look into the mirror I can't help but agree. I do look a sight with my scars, eye patch, and remaining unshaven would certainly not add any respectability to my appearance. Agonizingly several ideas that would have furthered my work on the armament upgrade have come and gone by the time I finish shaving, and I resolve to soon install some microphones in proximity to the vanity.  
  
As I'm patting my face dry, I step into the main living area of my room only to stop in horror. Lt. Green is holding in her hands a framed photo that I know for a fact wasn't in this room when I left this morning. Several of my friends from my college days are in it with Maki trying unsuccessfully to hide behind someone in the background. The only thing that saves me from complete discovery is that I was the one taking the picture. Still I can see that something in the photo is bothering her. I can only try to distract her and hope for the best.  
  
"I see that you've found that old photo of my cohorts." She looks up questioningly. "Yeah, those are some friends from my restless youth, before I settled on becoming a pilot."  
  
"There's something familiar about this photograph." My heart speeds up slightly in panic, and almost bursts when she looks up at me sharply. "There in the background. Isn't that Maki Agata?" She reaches out with the frame and I take it trying to stall for time.  
  
"Oh, yeah. I met her at this barbeque. She was there with her boyfriend or something. She'd done some work with us on our video game. Wrote the voice recognition portion all on her own in a week. Gave us a copy of the program in case we wanted to use it on other things. It's pretty good. It's what I use in my lab. Don't know what happened to her after that." I look up at her quizzically praying beyond all hope that she'll buy this. "How do you know her?"  
  
She looks at me like I'm an idiot, which is probably a lot better than if she were looking at me like I was a liar. "Don't you know that Maki Agata was Professor Naguchi's primary assistant when he built Frank?"  
  
"What? I had no idea. Everything I've come across just said 'his assistant' or some such. Her name was never mentioned." Right now I can see my life flashing before my eyes, and I swear that I will at least maim my devil when I next see him. "So are we ready to go yet? Now that I'm not working, I'm starved. I should probably put a mini-fridge in the lab so I can at least keep some food for when the urge strikes me." Tossing the photo onto the bed, I take Guinevere's elbow in my hand and lead her to the door.  
  
The trip to Guinevere's apartment isn't as silent as the earlier one with her asking me about some of the things I'd been working on recently. Several times though she stops me saying I'd passed beyond the realm of small talk and into the realm of a research discussion. Every time I'm with her, Lt. Green manages to expand beyond any of my previous views of her. At first I'd thought of her as whimsical, something, which made her fearsome reputation as a pilot and her more spectacular one as a marksmen so hard to believe until I had seen her in action. Now I can see some of what has been eluding me before. Whatever she does Guinevere always devotes all of her energies, making it the most important thing in her universe. I'd seen it at work, but now it was obvious that she did the same at other times.  
  
Stepping into Guinevere's apartment revealed quite a bit about just how seriously she took her free time. Even the entryway had evidence of past exploits in an enormous collage of photos showing her participating in various activities. Hanging by a single hand from a rock face in the Rocky Mountains, skydiving in Egypt, surfing, skiing, camping, and anything and everything else.  
  
I hadn't noticed that she wasn't beside me any longer until she stuck her head back around into the small hallway. "Just make yourself at home in the living room while I get changed." Just as quickly as she appeared, she ducked out of sight and very shortly after I could hear the shower running in her bathroom.  
  
My first reaction to her living room is one of shock. She obviously cared enough to request an apartment larger than mine, and the room is practically packed with what I can only call stuff, for the lack of a better term. There are strange items everywhere, from a sword attached to the wall next to a rifle, some famous impressionistic paintings or rather good fakes, a fur rug belonging to what I sincerely hope was an artificial tiger sitting before a television with most every game system known to man hooked up to it. Sitting down on a rather nice leather couch, I jump up in surprise when I hear a noise from under me. It's a whoopee cushion. Picking it up, I hold it in front of my face and stare at it. This does not bode well for whatever evening Guinevere has planned tonight.  
  
Trying to regain some of my perspective on the evening I walk over to her bookcase to see just what she's placed inside of it. To my surprise there seem to be over a dozen, floppy, soft-cover books all containing riddles and word games of the sort that she threw at me while I was in the hospital. I'd think it an excessive reaction to helping out a sick friend if the covers on most weren't battered with age and use. Moving on along the shelves I find quite a few books and journals on physics and various space sciences. One of the journals had even published an article of mine, but my quick browsing doesn't find that particular issue. Most of the items on this topic are ones that I've read, though a few of the journals have me itching to check them out. I'll have to remember to re-subscribe to them now that I'm researching again. There are also quite a few books on biology. They cover a wide variety of subjects within the field but I soon notice a pattern. Aside from the standard texts, most of the others are devoted to different aspects of treatments for a wide variety of ailments or conditions. These too appear well thumbed through as do the journals of this type.  
  
Backing up to the large, puzzle books I find other books on just about every physical activity I can think of off of the top of my head, as well as many I wouldn't have ever thought of. These in contrast to most of the others appear almost unused, with but the occasional fingerprint marring their covers or pages when I care to check. Other books litter the remaining shelves ranging from the trashy romance novels that Maki used to read every so often to classics written by Melville, Twain, Tolkein, Kircher, Asimov, Bradburry, Plato, Weber, Hemmingway, and many countless others.  
  
Turning around I almost yell in astonishment when I find Guinevere standing in front of me with her head tilted, a curious expression on her face. "Do my bookshelves pass inspection, Lt. Soma?"  
  
I don't know why, but I feel the incredible need to answer her. "I used to subscribe to several of the physics journals before my accident. I was thinking how I should renew since I'm going to be researching once more." As soon as it leaves my mouth I know I've said too much, but she doesn't seem to notice. Instead of having to cover up my mistake I find myself taking in what she's wearing for the first time.  
  
It's nice, is the first thing that comes to mind. Very nice. The sort of thing that many a guy would love for a blind date to show up wearing, especially if the person in question filled it out as well as Guinevere did hers. It was a green, silk dress, in a Chinese style that hugged her curves from her shoulders to her knees. The sides were slit up the leg dangerously high and it took all of my concentration not to have my eyes look for more of her leg to expose itself. In changing the direction of my gaze I finally notice the pattern embroidered upon it in gold thread. It's an Asian dragon that coils around her waist and around to her back with the dragon's head coming over her right shoulder and resting on top of her heart. The design itself gets a chuckle out of me.  
  
"What is it?" She turns around and I get a much better view of just how well the dress fits her before she stops in her original position. "Does it look okay?"  
  
My heart stops. This is one of those questions that I've always feared answering. Do I tell her the truth that she looks absolutely stunning and risk getting thrown out, or do I brush it off as adequate seeming suave and sophisticated and subsequently offending her? Oh God, please just open the ground under me now and swallow me whole. After an agonizingly eternal second I decide to go with what made me chuckle in the first place. "It's just that my name literally means Dragon in Japanese. It's a beautiful dress and you wear it stunningly." Dear God, did I actually say that? The ground did swallow me up because this must be hell!  
  
Of all of the possible responses, the one I didn't anticipate at all was Guinevere bursting into laughter. "I'll have to remember that. This one is my favorite because its color matches my name." She turns and walks back towards her kitchen area. "Dinner will be in about twenty minutes." Stopping once more, she turns. "Unless you would like to give me a hand in the kitchen?" 


	3. Fate & Secrets In Progress

Blindsided An Argento Soma Fanfiction  
  
By Prospero Hibiki The Grandmaster Mongoose God of Misdirection, Caffeine, and Those Socks You Lost Last Tuesday hell_frost@hotmail.com  
  
Brought to you by Frozen Hell Productions  
  
Disclaimer:  
The characters in this story are the sole property of their creators and owners whoever they may be. The characters of the series Argento Soma are being used without permission. No profit is sought nor will any be received for the production or publication of this work.  
  
Fate & Secrets  
  
It's been three weeks since I started working in the lab, or Purgatory as one of the girls in the command center jokingly called this place. The name's seemed to stick too. Besides I like it. That laboratory is my purgatory.  
  
It's gotten even more cluttered in there, but that is how I want it. I can find everything I need to at a moment's notice which really is all I need. Besides the clutter serves to hide Angel as I continue to add more and more processors to her adaptive network. Maki had been an excellent programmer. The top of her field really. I think more of the personnel here at Funeral have realized this now since my little slip in letting Guinevere find out that Maki wrote the voice recognition program. But that's all people know.  
  
Slowly as the clutter in the room accumulated I added computer after computer, often hiding them in the bottom drawers of filing cabinets, which I then blocked off behind desks. Why? To hide the real number of processors that I've installed in the lab. Angel can now draw from over two hundred processors strewn throughout the room. She was originally meant to be nothing more than an advanced research compiler, but that was just what Maki intended it for. I knew immediately that Angel could be so much more. Which is why one day when no one was paying attention I brought in a box with one hundred and fifty top of the line processors. It cost a fair amount, but I haven't needed to purchase anything else during my time as Ryu Soma and I had a fair bit saved. Now Angel has developed a much better personal operating system that's allowed her to change her own code so she can improve upon her capabilities on her own. Not only that but she has begun to move beyond compilation to analyze the data itself and report it to me through a wireless headphone piece of my own design. It transmitted the sound directly through the bone behind my right ear preventing anyone from overhearing her responses to my verbal requests.  
  
Walking in the door to Purgatory I begin with my traditional greeting to the computer. "So what's on the agenda for today, Angel?"  
  
That Angel responds is a given. What was unusual was that her voice wasn't the only one that did so. So while Angel lists off the possible avenues she has hypothesized the previous night a second voice calls out from within the room.  
  
"Terms of endearment already, Lt. Soma? Whatever would the Commander think?" Lt. Green response was, of course, slightly more...unexpected.  
  
It takes me a few seconds to locate her as she has commandeered the most comfortable chair in the room, which also happens to be located behind a bookcase. "I'm sorry Lt. Green, I didn't realize anyone was here. I was...thinking out loud."  
  
As Guinevere rises I could tell that she doesn't quite believe me but is willing to let it slide this time. "Be that as it may I've just been wondering if you've had any interesting ideas about life in space recently."  
  
The odd nature of the request brings to mind the fact that she hasn't really asked about my work in the past two weeks. Not since that interesting dinner at her apartment. For some reason it suddenly occurs to me that she'd been avoiding me in a professional sense since that time. Sure there has been the occasional lunch and even a dinner or two, but not once during that time has she asked me about my research. Something I'd said that night, or maybe something she'd said had set her on edge, and I can't for the life of me remember what it was except that it had to do with space. I'm jolted back to reality when I realize she's been trying to get my attention. "Sorry?"  
  
She frowns slightly. "I asked you if you had a theory as to the best way to continue the research on space influenced radiation diseases that was halted because of the landings."  
  
I scratch my chin in thought for all sorts of alarm bells are ringing in my head over this seemingly innocuous question. "Hmmm, I might have, but I'll have to do a full search on the network to be sure." Which was of course a complete and total lie, because I could have just asked Angel to do so for me. What the sentence really did was cause Angel to save whatever projects she'd been working on and devote all of her attention, and that of her recorders, to our current conversation and any requests I made of her. All of which might seem a given, but in reality whenever I make a request of Angel in any other manner she only uses at most ten percent of her true processing power in addition to whatever the machine I'm working on is capable of.  
  
"Is there any specific disease you'd like me to look into? Though I'm not a specialist in the field I remember reading that different diseases were studied differently." My brain is working overtime, bringing up the memory of the medical journals that I'd seen inside of Guinevere's apartment. This is obviously more than idle curiosity on her part. Tapping away at my keyboard I query Angel about the identities of victims of such diseases. When she reports that they would be secured files I tell her to hack whatever she needs to.  
  
Lt. Green hesitates for a few minutes before answering, further confirming in my mind that this is personal in some way for her. Maybe a relative? "No, no specifics." The way she says it screams that there is a specific, but it seems I've reached the end of her trust on this issue. Not that that's going to stop me in anyway. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Ryu." That she's called me by my first name begs me to forget this but this is a case where that is not an option.  
  
As she approaches the door I reach out and grab her wrist to stop her. "If I come up with anything I'll let you know Guinevere." I know I've made the correct choice when I see her almost sag in relief. She nods in my direction and leaves walking slightly faster than her normal pace.  
  
Closing the door I turn the deadbolt I'd recently installed, locking the door before I sit down. "Angel, initiate a full search of any and all known space related radiation diseases and sicknesses. Concentrate on any whose research on cures was interrupted by the landings, and specifically on any that have had any instances over the course of Lt. Green's lifetime. Until otherwise notified this shall occupy half of your resources. I want to know what's going on here."  
  
"Shall I create a new research topic for voice filing?" Angel's synthesized version of Maki's voice responds in my earpiece.  
  
I nod and then sigh when I realize I have yet to install a camera in her network. "Yes, file it under the keyword...Companionship. Ensure there is a cross link search of other topics for pertinent material."  
  
"Of course Ryu. I've already done so. Perhaps you wish to tell me how to add and subtract now as well."  
  
Another sigh escapes. There is one bad point to an adaptive AI that I don't think either Maki or I ever thought of. Angel seems to have developed a sense of humor that stands a fair bit lower than my own. It's a real shame that I've decided to keep Angel a secret from everyone because I think she and Guinevere would get on famously in that regard. "Okay, Angel, point taken." Standing once more and unlocking the door I move back to my seat and start working the research I'd meant to start on before moving onto this tangent. "Oh, and Angel remind me to install several cameras so you'll be able to know when I nod."  
  
"I've already placed a request through the Funeral supply office. One should arrive by tomorrow evening."  
  
"Thank you. Now about the idea for a gravity rail launcher..."  
  
***  
  
"Ryu?"  
  
"Yes, Angel?" Once more I try to rearrange the gravity conductors into a better configuration for what I intend them to ultimately do. By now I doubt that I'll be able to do it, since this is the one hundred fifty third combination I've tried today.  
  
"While it is rather amusing to watch you do the same thing over and over again, I believe your time would be better spent going to the cafeteria and refueling."  
  
"What?" I turn my head in an effort to look at something that doesn't have to do with this project. Incidentally this directs my gaze towards a clock that shows that I've been working on this problem for the past eight hours without a break. My stomach confirms it for me. "Has it been that long already?"  
  
"Yes, Ryu. Hattie has come and gone several times since you arrived this morning. In fact, you've already lied about having eaten lunch to no less than five different people."  
  
Sighing I lean back in my chair and roll my shoulders to get rid of some of the knots that have built up in the past few ours. "I guess that means I should eat." A thought occurs to me. "Were any of those people Lt. Green?" I don't think she's shown up since this morning if for no other reason than the fact she never believes me when I lie about eating.  
  
"Of course not Ryu. If she had been here you wouldn't be."  
  
Standing up I walk over to the center of the room and run the save and sort programs. "You make it sound like I'm henpecked."  
  
"You mean to tell me that you aren't?"  
  
I turn in my chair and glare at the center of the room where I have a small angel figurine made of crystal. "You can be replaced you know."  
  
"Not very easily, and besides who would compile all of your data for you in the meantime?" 


End file.
